


Toucan-Sam

by INMH



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11823.html">Link to the Les Miserables Kink Meme.</a>
</p>
    </blockquote>





	Toucan-Sam

**Author's Note:**

> [Link to the Les Miserables Kink Meme.](http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11823.html)

The first thing that Enjolras thought when he woke up was, _Someone has left their car alarm on._

And because Enjolras had just woken up, his second thought (upon closer consideration of the noise’s location), _Someone has left their car in the living room._

Indeed, that was what it sounded like: A very loud, screechy noise that sounded very much like someone’s activated car-alarm seemed to be blaring from the floor below. It was only after a moment that Enjolras realized that the sound in question could possibly be the smoke-detector and forced himself out of bed so that he could make sure. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was six AM- and a _Saturday,_ no less.

They had replaced the smoke alarm only a few weeks before, discovering that it was broken the hard way when it failed to detect the smoke rising from a damaged coil in their oven, which had in turn nearly set the house on fire. Upon replacing it, however, they had tested the new alarm- and as Enjolras descended to the ground-floor of their home, he couldn’t help but think that the smoke alarm sounded different from the noise that he was currently hearing-

“Enjolras!”

The staircase emptied out into the kitchen, where Enjolras found himself facing down with Courfeyrac and Grantaire. It was Courfeyrac who had spoken his name, a tone of surprise tinged, unmistakably, with panic. “Courfeyrac, what’s that noise?”

“You’re up early! How did you sleep?”

Enjolras’s infamous Bullshit Detector immediately kicked on as he heard a door shut upstairs and footsteps in the hall. “ _What is that noise_ , Courfeyrac?” He repeated, crossing his arms.

Courfeyrac made a small noise of distress, apparently uncertain as to how he should respond. Grantaire gave a soft cough. “Would you believe a ghost?”

“ _No._ ” Still a little addled by sleep, Enjolras finally registered the state of the kitchen- That being, it was a disaster area. Someone had knocked a bunch of bananas off the counter and then stepped on them, resulting in yellow goo covering the kitchen floor. Bowls and cooking utensils had been knocked askew, some boxes of crackers and cereal had been stomped on and ripped, three chairs near the table were knocked over- “What the _hell_ happened in here?”

“What is that awful racket?” Bossuet interrupted before Courfeyrac could answer as he reached the kitchen, Joly close behind.

“I’m almost certain that volume is enough to cause hearing-damage.” Joly muttered, hands pressed over his ears. Then he looked at Courfeyrac and Grantaire. “When did you two get in?”

It was then that Enjolras noticed that both of them were dressed in the same clothing that they had been wearing the night previously, indicating that they had not, in fact, been home very long- or maybe they had just slept in their clothing. That meant that they were either too tired to change, or-

Enjolras stepped a little closer to Courfeyrac and sniffed. Ah, and there it was: The unmistakable scent of alcohol. That compiled with the fact that Courfeyrac kept squinting and rubbing his temples gave Enjolras an idea as to what had happened the night previously. The plot thickened.

“Did you just sniff me?”

“What were you two doing last night, and how does it connect to that sound?”

“God _damn_ , Enjolras. Why do you want to be a lawyer? You’d make a great detective.” Given the small slur still remaining in Grantaire’s voice and the circumstances, Enjolras couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or sincerity.

“Found him!” Without warning, Jehan came stumbling into the kitchen from the living room, almost knocking into Grantaire as he did. “Found him, he’s on the-” Jehan froze in place when he saw Enjolras, Bossuet and Joly. The youngest of the three suspects was pale and a little shaky- and not likely for fear of Enjolras’s reaction. “…Oh.”

“Found who, Jehan?” Bossuet inquired, but Enjolras pushed past Courfeyrac so that he could move to the entrance of the living room, ignoring the dark-haired man’s stuttered protests. It took a moment, but as Enjolras was completing a second scan of the (also thoroughly destroyed) room…

“Jehan,” He began slowly, Bossuet and Joly quickly joining him and looking for the source of the noise. “What is that bird currently perched on our lampshade?”

Jehan swallowed. A little closer to him now, Enjolras could smell alcohol on him as well. Not the best of news, given that Jehan wasn’t a big drinker and was likely not handling whatever he had drank the night before well. “…That would be a toucan, Enjolras.” His voice was still obviously slurred.

Joly was edging behind Bossuet. “Does it bite?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why,” Enjolras began, and they could hear the shock starting to pass, the slow build-up to rage creeping into his voice as the toucan turned its head curiously to better observe them all. “Is there a toucan in our living room?”

Grantaire, Courfeyrac and Jehan were silent for a moment. “Because it got bored of being in the kitchen?” Grantaire suggested weakly, and flinched at the murderous look directed at him by his idol.

“How did it get here _, Courfeyrac?_ ”

Courfeyrac laughed weakly, and started to back away only to freeze in place when the toucan made a displeased noise. “Well, Enjolras, that’s- That’s an interesting story.”

“ _Do tell_.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, as though appealing to a higher power for the right words to make his story less infuriating for Enjolras to hear. “Well- I suppose- You see, Grantaire and Jehan and I went out last night, into the city. To a bar. A few bars, in fact.”

“Dirty bars,” Jehan said, gripping Grantaire’s shoulder and leaning against the older man for support. “Dirty, dirty bars. In more ways than one.” He burst into a little fit of giggles, burying his face into Grantaire’s shoulder.

Courfeyrac swallowed audibly when Enjolras’s expression grew even stormier than before. “Yes. That. And- well- to make a long story short, it would seem that some time between then and now, we purchased a toucan from a lovely man in a dark alleyway with a cart full of cages.”

“He had tarantulas.” Jehan went a little green. “God, who would want a tarantula as a pet?”

After a moment of silence, everyone turned to stare at Bossuet, who had raised his hand. “What? They’re fuzzy.”

“They also have eight legs and eyes. Anything with more than two eyes and _fangs_ is not a good pet.” Jehan squawked with a shudder.

“You bought a toucan.” Enjolras pressed on.

“Yes.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Courfeyrac swallowed hard. “We were drunk.”

Now, most other people would have found this excuse irritating, exhausting even. But in Enjolras’s book, alcohol was an excuse for absolutely _nothing_ , and was every bit as inclined to kicking the asses of his housemates when they used it as an excuse for their idiocy.

“Why is it making that noise?” Bossuet asked (It should be noted that the toucan had not ceased its previous noise-making), cutting off Enjolras’s rage before it could properly grow.

“It’s a mating-call. He wants a pretty-lady toucan to come and play with-” Jehan broke off, sniggering too hard to speak, and Enjolras had a terrible feeling that if this wasn’t resolved before the poet sobered up they would probably be hearing sonnets dedicated to the toucan and his supposed mate.

“What mate would want it? It’s frigging annoying.” Courfeyrac grunted.

“At least it gets noticed.” Grantaire muttered, shooting a dark look at Enjolras. The blond didn’t know what to make of the look, and so he ignored it.

“Are toucans dangerous?” Joly inquired, clearly not forgetting that his inquiry as to whether or not toucans were prone to biting had gone unanswered.

“He’s not dangerous, just hoppy. Hippity-hoppity. Like Tigger.” Jehan mumbled, eyes now shut as Grantaire struggled to keep him upright.

“Tigger doesn’t hop, he bounces.” The seasoned drinker responded.

“Right, right, sorry.”

Enjolras glared at the three culprits. “Hungover or not, all three of you are cleaning this up.”

“Absolutely.” Courfeyrac said quickly, knowing very well that this was possibly the only way to avoid the full brunt of Enjolras’s sleep-deprived wrath.

“I can’t believe this. I expect this sort of thing from you-” He pointed to Courfeyrac, “I’ve started to expect this sort of thing from _you_ -” A gesture to Grantaire, who seemed surprised that Enjolras hadn’t expected it of him in the first place, “But _you_ , Jehan?”

Jehan seemed to wake up a little at that. “I am a very, very bad boy.”

“We got him drunk.” Courfeyrac defended.

“I don’t care. And I’m calling animal control to remove the bird.”

“ _No_ , Enjolras! You can’t get rid of Sam! He likes us!”

“Oh yes, as evidenced by the way he hippity-hopped all the fuck around the damn living room and kitchen and made us chase him.” Grantaire grumbled.

Bossuet snorted loudly and covered his mouth as he laughed. “Oh my God, you named it _Sam?_ Like that bird from the cereal commercials?”

“ _No,_ we named it General Beaky-Billsworth.” Everyone assumed that Courfeyrac was being sarcastic. But then he snapped, with the distinct air of someone who had battled about a point extensively and did not like having to do so again, “I told you it was too cliché to call it Sam!”

“That is a _stupid_ name, Courfeyrac, and we’re calling him _Sam!_ ” Jehan straightened up and stomped his foot like a petulant child. Enjolras ran his hands over his face and remembered very, very clearly why he chose to abstain from alcohol.

“Did you have a name picked out for him, Grantaire?” Joly asked, and Grantaire snorted.

“I was just fine with calling him ‘the fucking toucan’, but these two wouldn’t let that stand.”

Enjolras was, at this point, more or less on the verge of a major aneurism and desperately needed to either go back to sleep or down about four cups of coffee. As it so happened, he could see that their last bag of coffee had fallen prey to the hopping toucan; ergo, the sorry bastards before him had better hope that he could manage at least another hour of sleep before nine.

It was at that moment that Sam seemed to attain human-like intelligence, and was able to discern that his new masters were now contemplating ridding themselves of him. That, or he had simply decided that he had stood still long enough and wanted to move. Whatever the case, Sam made a mighty leap from the lampshade to the back of the couch, then the coffee table, the arm of the chair, the back of the chair, and then right up to-

Bossuet made a sharp squeaking noise and went very, very still. “It’s- _It’s on my head._ ” He whispered.

“We can see that, Bossuet.” Courfeyrac said quietly, and no one dared to move for fear of alarming the toucan.

“He thinks you’re a tree.” Jehan chuckled. “A leafless tree. A leaveless tree. A _sleeveless tree._ ” His laughter became breathless. “I have to write that down!”

“Answer Joly’s question, _do they bite?_ ” Bossuet insisted, a note of hysteria creeping into his voice.

“No, no, no, no, no- Possibly.” Grantaire admitted, and everyone who did not have a toucan on their head (or was as drunk as Jehan) whipped around to glare at him.

“You are not helping.” Enjolras growled.

Grantaire shrugged. “I’m still drunk.”

Jehan slowly crept away from the group, going over to one of the kitchen cabinets and pulling out a box of-

“Jesus Christ, Jehan, you’ve got to be joking.” Courfeyrac said raggedly when he saw which cereal Jehan had selected.

“Maybe he likes them!” Jehan suggested defiantly as he held out a handful of Fruit Loops in the toucan’s direction, arm wobbling unsteadily. “Here Sam! Come get the nice, sugary snacks!”

“Can toucans eat cereal? I would think it would be bad for them.” Joly mused. Bossuet shot him a glare out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t care, so long as it _gets this thing off of my head._ ” He croaked, before cautiously rolling his eyes up to try and get a look at the colorful creature on his head. Sam twitched his head in Jehan’s direction, turning so that one big, blue eye could focus directly on the young man- and more importantly, the food in his hand. Sam let out a pensive squawk and dropped into a crouch.

“Would you look at the way that thing turns its head? It’s creepy as hell.” Grantaire whispered. “It’s like he plans to suck your soul out through that freakishly long beak.”

“Shut up, Grantaire.” Enjolras grunted.

“Or it plans to bite us all and infect us with bird-flu.” Joly suggested, knotting his fingers in the bottom of his t-shirt and twisting nervously.

“Shut _up_ , Joly.” Enjolras snapped with a little more bite.

Finally, Sam leapt from Bossuet’s head (“ _Ow!_ ”) to the kitchen-island, where he skidded on the smooth surface and stopped before Jehan, who quickly dropped the cereal for his consumption.

“See? Look at how friendly he is!” Jehan cooed, stroking Sam’s head with a finger as he ate. Indeed, the toucan was calm and quiet now that he had food to occupy his attention. “And pretty, too. He’s a pretty birdy. Very pretty. Can’t we keep him, Enjolras? _Please?_ ” He begged.

“We are not keeping the toucan that you bought from a shady street-vender while intoxicated.”

“Courfeyrac’s the one who bought him.”

Courfeyrac held up both hands and backed away from Enjolras, whose gaze had fallen upon him. “Drunk! What part of that word are you having trouble grasping?”

Sam suddenly let out a loud noise of either distress or anger before jumping onto Jehan’s shirt. This startled the young poet and sent him flying back into the counter, where he hit his back with a noise that made his fellows wince and sunk to the ground, a flurry of black, white, red, orange, green and yellow flapping around in his face.

Courfeyrac unbuttoned his over-shirt and quickly tossed it over the raging toucan and pulled it off, shoving it into the small utility closet nearby and shutting the door. Almost immediately, the sound of Sam’s loud, alarm-like mating-call returned, this time mercifully muffled.

Jehan burst into tears, rubbing his back with one hand and touching the small scratches the toucan’s claws had left on his face with the other. Enjolras felt a bit of his rage towards the younger man drain away; half-drunk, probably already beginning to feel a hangover coming on, and now attacked by a toucan? “Joly, would you…?” Joly nodded wordlessly and helped Jehan up, guiding him towards the stairs and beckoning for Bossuet to follow him. As the three disappeared, Enjolras’s expression returned to stormy as he turned back to Courfeyrac and Grantaire.

“I am going back to bed before I kill one or both of you.”

They nodded.

“You will clean up.”

They nodded.

“You will call animal control and ask them to remove the bird.”

They nodded.

“You will do it quietly.”

They nodded.

“You will never get Jehan drunk again, or tempt him with any colorful animals.”

They nodded.

“You will never bring home a toucan- _or any other animal_ \- home again, unless you get permission from everyone in the house.”

They nodded a final time, and Enjolras slowly turned and went back upstairs. The last thing he heard as he ascended was Grantaire saying, “I think we ought to throw out the Fruit Loops. Just on principle.”

God, Enjolras had never needed sleep more than he did right now.

-End  


**Author's Note:**

> If you’re interested, go on Youtube and search “Keel Billed Toucan Courting Song”, because holy crap, it does sound like some kind of alarm. ~~And on a totally separate note, holy shit, their eyes terrify me.~~


End file.
